


facebook reunions were not meant for twenty-something year-olds

by crimsvn



Series: crimsvn's five days of dnf-mas [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Childhood Friends, Christmas Party, Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsvn/pseuds/crimsvn
Summary: Funnily enough, it's a Facebook message that brings George back home. It's quite plausibly his least used social media, and yet, it's what lures him back into the comforts of where he once lived, oh-so long ago. For a Christmas-party-turned-reunion, of all things.But damn, if George could never forget those emerald green eyes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: crimsvn's five days of dnf-mas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067309
Comments: 3
Kudos: 141





	facebook reunions were not meant for twenty-something year-olds

Funnily enough, it's a Facebook message that brings George back home. It's quite plausibly his least used social media, and yet, it's what lures him back into the comforts of where he once lived, oh-so long ago.

The message came from the friend George had kept most in contact with over the years, which wasn't a lot to begin with. When you part ways as kids, there's really not too much keeping you together other than, perhaps, a parent's phone number—which is more difficult to maintain when moving overseas, rather than across the country. So off the bat, George's contact was pretty damn limited, but it _existed._ Which is what won him an invite to some Christmas get-together, a reunion of sorts, since he was already _somewhat_ around, visiting family for the holiday.

And, well, George agrees to go because _what else was he doing?_

A few days before the party was meant to occur, like a creep, George goes stalking through the Facebook profiles of other people he had vaguely remembered being friends with as a kid, _if only to gain an idea of who they were now,_ George told himself, though deep down, he knew the general search was only meant as an excuse to hide the fact that he only had one person in mind, when searching—someone by the name of Dream, who had been George's best friend for the time he lived in the U.S., though unfortunately having lost complete contact with him after moving back to England. Dream had been George's best friend, as well as his first and _only_ crush, since no one had ever seemed to compare.

But unfortunately, with George's luck, all he finds is a private account with a profile picture of a cat. George found the account through Sapnap—the friend who had originally contacted him about the party—so at least he knows it's _his_ Dream, but other than that, he has nothing to build on. 

Though, George isn't sure why he was bothering, anyways, because he hadn't a clue if Dream would even _be_ at the get-together. For all George _really_ knew, he could be just about anywhere in the world, doing just about anything. Hell, George hadn't even visited the states in years, the timing only happened to be convenient and purely coincidental. The universe worked in funny ways, sometimes.

By the time the day _before_ the party arrives, George has a cleared history and has mostly forgotten about his Facebook scavenger hunt, as he's on his way to coffee with Sapnap to catch up one on one before George is thrown into a house with people he hadn't talked to in nearly a decade. If he just had even one person to comfortably talk to during the upcoming night, George would be content all the way into the New Year.

Sapnap is hardly any different than George remembered, only more... _grown up._ Their conversation is stilted and awkward at first, but after ordering coffee and finally sitting down, they settle into a comfortable banter, exchanging stories from their time spent apart. They also recall anecdotes from when they were younger, all the stupid shit they had managed to get themselves into from ages seven to thirteen.

They only hang out for about two hours before Sapnap claims he has to leave. He finalizes details for George, assuring George was all set for the next day before they go their separate ways for the afternoon. George feels refreshed, well-socialized after catching up with his old friend. He was grateful for the opportunity to do so, and it helped temporarily ease some anxiety concerning the party. 

George goes to bed without any worries, wakes up with doubts and spends the day with them, but in the end tosses on a Christmas sweater borrowed from his cousin, orders an Uber, and is soon on his way to the designated address. Sapnap had offered to drive him, but George had politely declined, figuring there was still a chance he might've bailed. He didn't, but still.

Although, when they pull up to the house, George almost tells the driver to turn around, considering making an excuse about it being the wrong place. Instead, though, he takes a deep breath and gathers any dregs of courage left in him, thanks the Uber driver, and steps out onto the sidewalk. The car is gone within thirty seconds, likely off to pick someone else up, and George was left without an escape. He begins to regret not accepting Sapnap's offer, because then at least he'd have a few less nerves about walking up to the door and knocking.

George is met with a semi-familiar face, a voice in the back of his head supplying him with a name, _Sam._ George scrambles to say something, offer some sort of introduction so that he didn't just seem like some weirdo appearing at the doorstep, but Sapnap beats him to it from inside the house.

"Hey, George!" Sapnap exclaims, coming up to the door. "You're here!"

George flashes an awkward, forced smile, just as a look of recognition falls over Sam's face.

"Oh, George! Sapnap said you were coming, I just didn't recognize you," Sam says. "It's been a while! Come on in."

Sam steps to the side to let George in. It was at that moment that George felt more out of place than he ever had in a long time. George earns a grand total of about a minute of peace before he's thrown into conversation with several different people, whom of which he hadn't spoken to since the eighth grade. It all starts similarly to how it had with Sapnap, but eventually George _actually_ finds he's starting to enjoy himself.

There is not, however, any sign of Dream. It's mildly disappointing, but George has to remind himself that they are all adults and have their own things to do. He couldn't always _expect_ someone to show up. It wasn't even George's party, so perhaps Dream hadn't even been invited (which would be a fair assumption if everyone they had been mutually friends with wasn't in attendance).

The sun sets at some point, George isn't too sure when. He's having more fun that he had initially thought he would, what with being a sort of stranger in a room where everyone else were close friends, but once over the speed bump that was a starting point, it felt as if George had never left, had never moved across the world. It was nice to know that seven years of friendship hadn't been entirely disregarded and forgotten.

It's around eight o'clock when the doorbell rings, which seems to have only surprised George, having thought that everyone had already arrived by now, which would make sense as it had been nearly two hours since George had got there, and no one had followed suit.

Sam excuses himself from the conversation to go get whoever was at the door, and George does his best to not make it obvious that he was trying to peer around Karl to see who it could be. His efforts are fruitless, though, as George is able to see jack shit from where he stood, only able to hear Sam in conversation with a new voice.

George tries not to get his hopes up, which proves to be impossible when Sam announces, "Hey, everyone, look who decided to finally show up!", which is followed by several greetings of newcomer, all varying with the common usage of the name Dream.

The first thing George notices, is that Dream's hair is darker than he remembered. It's also longer—in fact, it's tied up, but George supposes those minor style changes come with age. Though, George wouldn't complain. He kind of liked it. 

The second thing George notices is the height. When they were in the eighth grade, they had been equally as tall, George in fact having been slightly taller by the time he moved away. Now, Dream had half a head and some change on George in height.

But _damn,_ those emerald green eyes had never changed.

Somewhere in the deep corners of George's mind, he thinks that he had hoped that seeing Dream again would provide some semblance of closure, help George to see that his lasting crush had been stupid, helping George to move on to allow himself to pursue other people without comparing them to his friend, but the hope is diminished because, well—Dream was _hot._ He had aged well, filled out, and held himself with confidence that Dream's thirteen-year-old self would have both admired and envied. _George_ both admired and envied it.

George doesn't even know if Dream recognizes him. They have yet to speak, granted, it's only been a few minutes. George wasn't certain he had the bravery needed to address Dream.

But then someone—Sapnap—addresses George, breaking him from his thoughts _,_ saying, "You mentioned something about your jet lag being pretty bad, hey George?"

George blinks, all eyes suddenly on him. He nods, stumbling out a reply. "I—yeah. My sleep schedule is already miserable, so the time change wasn't fun. I'm over it now, though, until I fly home."

Fortunately for George, the conversation steers away from him, but he can't help but feel a lingering gaze from Dream. Maybe it was the mildly curious expression on his friend's face just as they make eye contact, but George sees it as recognition. _Alright, so Dream has figured out who you are. Baby steps._

George works to actually pay attention to what was being talked about so he wasn't caught zoning out again. Still, not a word is directly spoken to Dream, but George counts the general conversation as a start. Otherwise, George thinks he wouldn't have made it this far on his own. He was still working up the nerve to address Dream, acknowledge him, their past, so on.

But then people gradually branch off into separate topics, dividing amongst the larger group, until only Dream and George are left.

George stares at his drink, desperately wishing to leave this plane of existence if only to avoid the inevitable talk with Dream. In a way, George kind of wishes Dream hadn't ended up showing up to the party, but alas.

It's Dream that starts speaking first.

"I don't think I ever got the chance to ask how things were," Dream comments. "We haven't spoken in what? Ten years?"

George shrugs, finally looking back up at Dream. "About that, yeah. I guess I just never thought to try and get in touch. Things are good, though, by the way. What about you?"

Dream smiles, and it's just the same as it was a decade ago. "I'm alright. I missed you, man. I wasn't told you were going to be here."

"I didn't expect to be here, if I'm being honest," George confesses sheepishly. He looks back down at the floor. "Sapnap sent me a message on Facebook, 'cause he saw I was around for Christmas, actually. So you can thank him."

Dream chuckles. "I'll be sure to do so."

George is quick to realize that reunions are a repetitive and consistent process, with stiff conversation to begin, as a way of navigating around this seemingly new person, a sort of way to test the waters, before veering off into familiarity. It's the same with Dream, though the awkwardness seems to cling onto their words much longer than they had for George with Sapnap and everyone else. 

They get there _,_ in time, but it takes longer than both anticipated and desired. It also takes more alcohol than George would like to admit.

And it's exactly the liquid courage that gets him to confess what he thinks should have been left unsaid.

"You know, Dream," George says, subconsciously leaning into his friend. They were on a couch now, as the majority of the crowd had migrated to the living room. They were still engulfed in their own bubble, however. "I used to have a crush on you, when we were kids. You were actually my _first_ crush."

"No way!" Dream laughs. "Me too."

George frowns. "What?"

"Me too," Dream repeats. _"You_ were _my_ first crush."

George furrows his brows in disbelief, as well as confusion. "You're kidding."

Dream shakes his head, a wide grin spread across his face. "I'm not, I swear. Even though we were all gross, annoying thirteen-year-olds I thought you were like, the cutest. You literally gave me butterflies every time you smiled at me."

"I loved your laugh," George divulges. "I tried nearly everything in my power to hear it. Looking back, though, I'm sure I was wildly unfunny."

 _"Well,_ I don't know about that,"Dream disagrees. "I think you made me laugh more than anyone else."

"Somehow I doubt that," George remarks. "But I'll pretend you mean it to inflate my ego."

Dream makes a noncommittal noise of protest, but doesn't elaborate. Then, Dream is talking to someone else, and that was that. George wouldn't call it any sort of conclusion, not by any means, but in all honesty he was glad to not only get that piece of information off his chest, but to find out the feeling had been mutual.

The night carries on just a bit later before George calls it quits, along with a few others. The visit had been nice, and George was thankful for the opportunity to talk to his old friends again, but he was _tired._ It had been more social interaction than he had had for years, and George felt burnt out.

As George makes his way towards the door little by little, saying his goodbyes one by one, Dream catches his arm, effectively stopping George in his tracks.

"I just—I wanted to say that I'm happy we got the chance to see each other again. I don't think we really got the chance to say goodbye the first time," Dream tells him earnestly.

A soft smile grows on George's lips. "I guess we never did. I made sure I never forgot you, though, I can tell you that much."

"That's good to know. I never forgot you, either," Dream admits. "But at any rate, I don't want a goodbye this time."

"What do you mean?" George asks.

Dream takes a deep, uneven breath. "I'm not just going to let you leave again, George. At least not without a way of keeping in contact. And—it was nice talking to you tonight, but do you think we could go for lunch sometime, only the two of us? Before you fly home."

George is surprised by the suggestion, but pleasantly so. "I... yes, I think I'd like that. Maybe some time after Christmas? I don't leave until the twenty-ninth."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, that's perfect, actually—" Dream stammers, clearly having not expected George to say yes. "Where can I—should I just send you a message on Facebook or something?"

George snorts. "God, no. For all your troubles I'll just give you my number. Who even uses Facebook anymore?"

"Apparently you do," Dream quips. "Since that's what brought you to Sam's party."

George gently shoves Dream in retaliation. "Shut up. It's like the easiest place to find people, and me and Sapnap apparently have mutuals. And _without_ Facebook I wouldn't be here, talking to you. So I have an excuse."

Dream laughs. "Sure you do."

George rolls his eyes, shaking his head. They exchange numbers if only after a little more teasing, then George is _actually_ at the door. He bids his final happy holidays to everyone, all except for Dream, who is with him all the way to the foyer.

"I'll see you soon, then?"

George nods. "Of course. Merry Christmas, Dream."

"Merry Christmas, George. Have a safe drive home."

"Will do," George assures, then suddenly he's outside and the door is closed, and a shiver is sent up his spine as a cold breeze passes by. His Uber sits at the end of the driveway, waiting for George to climb in. 

Other than a few words exchanged with the driver, the ride home is silent. George stares at his phone, nearly the whole way, and by the time he's back at his aunt and uncle's house, George had memorized Dream's number. 

George finds himself more excited for a possible lunch with Dream than he was for Christmas with his family. He doesn't want to call a lunch together a date, not yet, but George allows himself some hope that that is exactly what it is.

But for now, George readies himself for bed as he falls victim to fatigue, contemplating on sending Dream a text right then, but he decides to save it for the next morning. After all, they had both had a late night.

**Author's Note:**

> classic "woah you grew up hot" trope,, you know how it is ;))
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! <3  
> (and lmk what else you wanna see from me!! i'm a fanfic writer and it's quarantine, i am at your service—this is definitely not a ploy to plug my brand new [tumblr](https://criimsvn.tumblr.com/))


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